Apropos of Nothing: Kristann Monaghan Answers 5 Questions

Kristann is a self-proclaimed 40-something couch potato determined to get healthy and not be those three little letters…FAT.  A Pediatric ICU nurse living in Flagstaff, Arizona, she knows all about how to be healthy, yet just can’t seem to apply this science to her own life. Flagstaff is the epitome of hippie outdoorsy life and she is NOT an outside girl (nor does she like the smell of patchouli and body odor together). She lives with her cat Daisy May (AKA the Ninja Kitten) and is really hoping she doesn’t turn into the Crazy Cat Lady who threatens small children with a really big stick from her front porch. She might have had that experience, but she doesn’t want to BE that experience. So instead, Kristann has ventured into what she calls The Running Experiment.

Which fairy tale character do you feel most like? Why?

I mostly identify with the villains/villainesses in a fairy tale. I am not like those fairytale Princesses. I don’t have sunshine and song coming out my butt and I don’t need anyone to save me. I prefer to lurk in the shadows and cause mayhem. It’s much more fun to be evil. You don’t have to apologize for who you are if you are evil because then you can just blame it on your evilness. Plus, I can practice my evil laugh: Bwhahahahahahaha!

Share a family ritual that has special meaning to you.

Well, there was this one time I sent my infant brother down the laundry chute. That was fun for me until my butt met the hand of my mother. Oh wait. You mean like a tradition. Actually, the one thing I can think of is that we always make these special cookies at Christmas called Kringla. Maybe it’s because I am a Fat Girl that cookies are special, but, really, making these means Christmas is here.  Plus, I really like to eat them. A lot.  Hence, why I am fat.

Say something about poverty.

Poor people can’t afford food, which is a crime to a Fat Girl. Seriously. And why is it that the most fattening food is the cheapest? It’s like saying if you are poor you must also be fat, wear sweats and live in a trailer drinking your wine out of a box. Hey…don’t judge me. Excuse me, but I must run to Wal-Mart now for another box.  

Share something that no one knows about you.

Wow, you are nosy, aren’t you? Can’t a Fat Girl keep some secrets? When you read my blog, you will see that I share almost everything; but in reality, I am painfully shy. No. Really. In a social situation, I am a total wallflower. Going to an all-women’s college helped me break out somewhat and I am sure my Cottey sisters will laugh when I say I am shy. Writing helps me step outside my comfort zone without having to actually talk to somebody face to face and look like a total Fat-Girl spaz. The computer helps with that, but it really doesn’t help me lose weight. Pretty sure between my couch and computer and working nights, I am doomed to be fat. 

Share a childhood experience with death.

When I was a toddler, I had a near-drowning experience where I fell into a swimming pool and a Great Dane jumped in and saved me. My only memory is of a hazy bright ball and the wetness of the water. I have no idea where my parents were when it happened. Maybe they ran to Wal-Mart for more wine. Or maybe I was being raised by the dog. That would explain a lot.

To learn more than you ever thought you would want to know about Kristann, visit her blog.

Kristann, you are the least-shy woman I have ever met. Wait. No, that would be Leslie from dear old Cottey C. But you’re a close second. So this is one Cottey sister laughing. Of course, I’m also rolling on the floor over the idea of you being raised by a Great Dane…. Keep writing. You’re the only person I know who can make me laugh so hard.

My next guest will be Mary Ann Bernal, a historical novelist with a passion for football!

#SampleSunday: An Excerpt from Charmed Life, available November 17th

As an actress, Sondra understood that, above all else, women were rivals. No matter what the relationship – sister, mother, daughter, friend – in the end, the best that could be expected was competitiveness.

Claire was a different sort of a woman from those Sondra had spent her life around, and her differentness confused Sondra. Despite knowing that Sondra and Milo had enjoyed a brief fling, Claire seemed determined to befriend her.

That Friday morning, Sondra awakened to the delicious aroma of fresh-brewed coffee – a beverage that Milo avoided for the most part. In his opinion, Arizona was no place for hot beverages. Therefore, she knew before she even set foot outside of her bedroom that Claire was in the kitchen. Still, the aroma was too strong to resist. She pulled her short pink-satin robe around her and walked quietly toward the kitchen, hoping to get a cup and get out before Claire could catch her.

“Good morning!” sing-songed the relentlessly cheery Claire. “I was just pouring you a mug of coffee!”

The first time Sondra had met Claire, the woman had been dour in the extreme and more than a little careworn. When Milo’s and her affection blossomed, though, Claire developed a glow that made Sondra want very much to kick her. But, she reasoned, that would be like kicking a puppy – people frowned when one did things like that. “Thank you,” she said, smiling stiffly and taking the mug.

“There’s an amaretto-flavored creamer in the fridge.”

“I know. I put it there.”

“That was you? I thought it was Milo.”

“Milo doesn’t drink coffee.”

“I know. I thought he bought it for me.” She sipped from her mug. “I’m afraid I used some of it.”

Sondra seethed, grinding her teeth as she poured a bit of the creamer into her cup.

“I’ll stop and buy a replacement bottle today. Do you want more amaretto or would you like one of the other flavors instead? French vanilla maybe?”

The anger she had been fostering dissipated, just as it always did where Claire was concerned. She never did enough wrong in sequence to allow Sondra time to build up a good head of steam. She tried to look on the bright side: soon, Claire’s unfailing goodness would be enough to raise her blood pressure. It was like living with Glinda the Good Witch. “French vanilla sounds good,” she answered. “And feel free to use as much of the creamer as you like.”

*****

Charmed Life, the second book in the Brass Monkey series, will be released on Thursday. If you haven't read Wild Life, please take the opportunity to pick up a sample. Links to all of my books can be found here.

#SampleSunday: An Excerpt from Wild Life

Despite an essentially lifelong estrangement from Brian, Milo still expected that moving to Arizona would repair their relationship. Brian, however, seemed less than thrilled when Milo parked a U-Haul truck in his driveway. “How long are you staying?”

“Indefinitely,” Milo repeated. “It’s high time I got to know my grandchildren better, don’t you think?” He glanced toward the surprisingly pasty boy and girl and winked.

“Children, go to your rooms.” As if on cue, they rose and disappeared, leaving Milo alone with Brian and his sour-faced chestnut-haired wife who looked very much like dead Alice, in Milo’s opinion.

“What are my children’s names?” Brian queried.

“That’s just bad parenting, Brian. You ought to know your own children’s names.”

Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I do know their names. The question is: do you?”

“Oh.” Milo swallowed uncomfortably. “I know what this is about.”

“Do you?” Brian cocked an eyebrow at his father. His wife scooted closer to him, laying a calming hand on his knee.

“Of course. I’ve never forgotten that day. I’m normally so good with faces…”

“You couldn’t recognize me in a crowd of children.”

“To be fair, Brian, you were all wearing the same uniform.”

“I’m your son!”

“And Minnesota does have a large population of towheaded children.”

“Name my children.”

“Alice Marie and Eric Thomas.”

“You see, darling? Your father knows their names. He just wants to be part of the family.”

“Why thank you, Millie.”

She frowned. “Marla.”

They let him stay on the pullout sofa. He wasn’t allowed to sleep past seven o’clock in the morning, because Marla had OCD and couldn’t leave the house without the living room tidied. Brian worked long hours as a DEA agent and Marla spent her days volunteering for the children’s school. Unable to sit and watch television for hours on end, Milo wandered the new city, boredom always at his heels. He visited the museums, the botanical garden, and the zoos. When the civic amenities were exhausted, he took to the antique stores. Before long, he developed a passion for film cameras. He identified with them on a subconscious level – they, too, were obsolete.

He emptied the contents of the U-Haul truck into a storage locker, wondering the whole time why he had bothered to bring the forty-year-old furniture and decorations with him. When he accidentally dropped a box full of knick-knacks and heard them crash to pieces, he looked around guiltily for dead Alice. She wasn’t there. He sighed with relief and dumped the whole box in the garbage without even opening it to see if anything was salvageable.

To buy Wild Life, Book One of the Brass Monkey series in e-book format:

Amazon.com *** Smashwords.com *** Barnes & Noble

To buy Wild Life or any of my novels in print, visit Inknbeans.com.

#SampleSunday: An Excerpt from Wild Life (My Latest Novel)

For Sample Sunday, please enjoy a bit of my latest novel, Wild Life. In the scene below, Milo meets Sondra Lane, a former Hollywood actress, at his neighborhood bar. If you enjoy the sample, buy the book! It's only $2.99 at Smashwords or Amazon.

Buy Wild Life at Amazon: click here!

He had been so focused on the television that he hadn’t noticed the woman who took the stool next to him until she tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, handsome, slide that bowl of pretzels this way, will you?”

He glanced to his right and found a thin woman with brightly dyed red hair and cigarette lines around her mouth. Milo slid the bowl her way, noting that she used to be beautiful – he could see it in her bone structure if not in her actual face. Now, she was merely attractive. “Here you go.”

“Hey, Sax!”

“Yeah, Sondra?” the bartender answered.

“This gentleman wants to buy me a drink. Whiskey sour, sweetie.”

Sax raised his eyebrows at Milo, looking for confirmation.

Milo smiled and gave an affirming nod.

“I’m Sondra Lane,” she said, turning herself to offer her hand for him to shake.

“Milo.”

“You’re new here.”

“Yes.”

“You live in ‘sin city’?”

He recognized the unofficial moniker of his retirement community: Sun City had recently been outed as having a surprisingly large number of people carrying sexually transmitted diseases. “I take it you’re not?”

“Not yet.” She smiled seductively. “Where are you from?”

“Illinois by way of Minnesota. You?”

“California. I was an actress.”

He sipped his beer and nodded.

She gave him her most beguiling smile, seemingly unaware that the years had taken their toll on it. “You may have seen me in Siege of the Moon. That was my biggest role. I played Sunrise Aeon, the leader of the Martian battle forces.”

“I’m afraid not.”

She shrugged. “It’s a crapshoot. About one out of every ten guys I meet recognize me. Women usually remember me from my recurring role on this old soap opera back in the Seventies.”

He looked at her again and instantly knew who she was. “Carmella Savage!”

She drew back and gave him an appraising look. “You don’t look gay.”

He chuckled. “I’m not. My wife loved Scions of Beauty.”

“Apparently the audience was housewives and every gay man in America. I could sign an autograph for you to take to her…”

“She died a few years back.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Milo thought that, for an actress, her delivery of the line was a little too upbeat. Sax finally arrived with her drink. She inhaled it like a camel that had spent a week too long in the desert. He signaled Sax to bring her another, digging a twenty out of his wallet. “Why’d you move to Arizona?”

“I had to get out of L.A. The city was killing me. My daughter lives here and she asked me to come and stay with her for a while. You?”

“My son’s family.”

“Sometimes I wonder what the draw is,” she said. “I mean, what brings all these people to this God-forsaken dustbowl of a city?” She sucked a long ice cube slowly into her mouth, her eyes meeting his over the rim of the glass.

Discreetly readjusting himself, he answered, “People always think they’re going to love the heat.”

She released the poor, melted ice cube and it dropped, exhausted, to the bottom of the glass. “Do you?”

“I’m adjusting.” He hadn’t thought of sex in a very long time. He knew that for a man to so completely sublimate sexual urges was unusual, but, between his high-blood-pressure medicine and his lack of desire for dead Alice, he had taken all of his sexual energy and diverted it into his work. In fact, he was currently experiencing his first hard-on since 1987. He had forgotten just how much blood was required to maintain an erection and wasn’t exactly sure why he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the not-quite-lovely Sondra.

“I only come here because they keep their air conditioner set so low. My daughter doesn’t want the air in her house any cooler than eighty degrees. It’s so hot I just want to walk around in the nude!”

Milo reached up and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. His brain was no longer able to form complete sentences. “My house cool.”

Sax put another drink in front of Sondra and gave Milo a look that seemed to say you poor bastard.